Gemotions

The decorations were taunting her. “Happy Birthday!” blared the banner, in a typeface she loathed. She surveyed the room, where she had painstakingly arranged her minimalist art exhibition. The minimalist art she'd spent months preparing for. Her roommate, Gina, was holding a rave in the next room.

She let out a frustrated huff. It was bad enough sharing a small apartment, but now she was forced to compete with the thumping bass and flashing lights. She'd envisioned an evening of quiet appreciation, of thoughtful discussion, of the gentle murmurs of art enthusiasts.

She clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. This was a nightmare. A beautifully decorated, exquisitely curated nightmare.